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Yeah, I thought if I just threw it in there unexpectedly it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Are you all right?

In order to understand how incredibly awkward an experience this was for me, you have to first understand that I, Jackie, am not a sexual being. Perhaps somewhere deep, deep within me, there is a ferocious, sexy monster just waiting to be unleashed from years of pent-up frustration.

And if you look real hard in that same place, you might also find a unicorn.

So suffice it to say that when I answered the phone with a proposition on the other end that I join a group of ladies for a birthday party at a pole-dancing lesson and I actually said yes, I was instantly paralyzed with fear.

Paralyzed. With. Fear.

The problem is that there are two different Jackies at work here. There is the first Jackie – the hermit, the antisocial, the I-refuse-to-change-because-I-don’t-like-the-smell-of-it Jackie. The one who would never, ever even consider something like pole-dancing. And then there is the other Jackie, who knows that it’s good for the first one to get out and try new things.

So one day the “other Jackie” was like hey! I know! I’ll start a 365 blog!! And every single Tuesday of every single week, I’ll do something that’s foreign and uncomfortable to me. And maybe after a whole year, I’ll be a more open, more fearless person!!

And quite frankly, if the first Jackie could go back in time, she would strangle the living daylights out of the second Jackie. Because thanks to her, I found myself in the dark with a group of eager, scantily clad women and a couple of poles. And an overbearing drill instructor with 7 inch platforms.

I should note here that I was not scantily clad.

I was not scantily clad because when you’re someone who doesn’t try new things, you are always sure to look up said new thing on the Interwebz before the actual attempt. And it was there, on the magical Interwebz, that I found the class website, which suggested an attire of “Workout clothes and bare feet.”

For future reference, if you are ever going to take a pole-dancing lesson, do not, I repeat do not listen to the website. You want to look like the sluttiest little slut in all the land. In fact, if you can find a slutty little crown that says those exact words on it, buy it immediately. Because when you’re in the dark with a strobe light and a pole, those little slut accessories are all you have to help you muster all your sexual prowess to avoid looking like a complete sexless imbecile.

My t-shirt and basketball shorts weren’t sexy. And though I had bare feet, I was instructed to walk as if I had heels on so logic dictates that I should have just worn heels. And after a while, I was told that if I was going to spin properly, I had to hike my shorts up as high as I could.

So you can either hike and pull everything so tiny that you look like a hooker, or you can just show up looking like a hooker. I suggest the latter – it’s much more efficient.

The first thing she made us do was get in a line and do our “sexy walk” in front of the class. Then there was some Sir Mix-A-Lot and something about a booty shaking butt contest. And then there was some walking and spinning around poles and things.

Forgive me if my memory is just a bit fuzzy, but you have to understand that I was so opposed to this experience that my mind literally blocked it out as it was happening. I do remember that somewhere in the middle she had us put our forehead at the bottom of the pole and thrust our legs up and backward to link around it and land in a headstand. But after watching me struggle to hook the pole with my foot, she came over to give me a hand – which I, in turn, hooked around in a flurry of confusion and fear and squeezed tightly between my foot and the pole until she yelled for me to let go.

I’ll bet that was hot.

It took me a while to realize she was yelling at me because, well, she was always yelling at me. I tried to tell her that once, but she labeled me as a problem student and tried to mock me in front of the class.

It’s hard to feel mocked by someone in spanx and 7 inch platform boots, but I admired the attempt.

She won in the end – because I’m second-day sore in places I didn’t know I had muscles to squeeze. My legs haven’t been this bruised since I was a tomboy in elementary school and lifting my toothbrush this morning was truly a remarkable feat.

22 Responses to “My Pole Name is Jasper Highland”

Holy crap Jackie! Hats (I mean “World’s Best Slut” Crowns) off to you. I can tell you that I too look to me more fearless but damn that for me is more in the lines of “Maybe I’ll try a Zumba class at the Y!” kind of a thing.

Well played, well played…
Thank god I have impediments betwixt my thighs or my girl might have made me go with her when she tried this out for herself. Oh and just for the record Sarah (and in case you read this), I SOOO would have out-slut you in the end, I’m good with the pole. (Oh wow, Please, please, please remember that there was no pun intended in that past part.)
Gratz Jackie, that’s a lollipop win if i ever heard one.

Thanks for passing it along!. And Jasper is an excellent name. We had a cat named that (thus the composition of the pole-name – first pet + first street name) and nicknamed her Jazz. Jazz would be a totally cool nickname for a dude.

I have only one thing to say….I would be afraid that I would impale myself on the pole. It does sound like fun in a painful kind of way. I would do if I wore a mask and chose the name ‘Elvira…queen of stainless steel.”

You are much braver than I. There is no way I would have tried that. Monday I did a faceplant just walking from the car to an office building. Plenty of bruising and a concussion. Who needs a pole to humiliate myslef?

I love lollipop Tuesday and I think basket ball shorts is the ONLY way to attend a pole dancing class! Bravo-we would not all be so trusting when putting our forehead at the bottom of the pole! 🙂
If you get a chance I’d be interested to hear your views on my very new blog please. Check it out at http://mycrazybrainblog.wordpress.com/